Of Books and Best Friends
by LadyWallace
Summary: Aziraphale had begun to realize over his many centuries on earth, that old friends are a lot like books—they're always there when you need them.


**Just a little ficlet inspired by a scene from Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. (I kind of feel like Aziraphale and Norrell would either get along really well or be complete rivals-probably the latter, but still with respect, maybe lol)**

Of Books and Best Friends

A Good Omens Fanfic

_Aziraphale had begun to realize over his many centuries on earth, that old friends are a lot like books—they're always there when you need them._

The auction hall was quite full by the time the angel and the demon arrived. Aziraphale looked around with a small amount of dismay on his face, while Crowley sulked to one side, hands in his pockets and a bored expression on his face.

"What is this thing you've dragged me to again, angel?" he demanded as Aziraphale was handed a numbered paddle in exchange for the invitation he had brought in.

"An auction for the estate of a very rich man who is from very old blood," Aziraphale said. "He died recently and his descendants are selling off a lot of his belongings."

Crowley groaned. He hated antiques. Pretty happy with progress, he was.

"Angel, what are you going to do with all this stuff?"

"Not all of it, Crowley," Aziraphale said as they were forced to find a seat at the back of the crowded room. "Just…he had a fantastic collection of books! Some that I've been trying to get my hands on for centuries!"

Crowley rolled his eyes. That made sense. The angel literally couldn't help himself when it came to old books.

"What, more books?"

Aziraphale shot him a look. "I am a collector, Crowley, that's what I do. Besides, you didn't have to come."

"Didn't have anything better to do," Crowley muttered, folding his arms across his chest as he slumped in his seat, looking around at the people in the hall. Most of them were old or rich, or both. His fingers practically itched with the temptation to tempt some of them. These sorts of people were so easy to sway. They had lots of money and very little thought. Honestly, it was almost like stealing candy from a baby.

"Oh, it's starting," Aziraphale said excitedly as the auctioneer came onto the stage at the front of the room and took his place at the stand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. Our first item is this Georgian bureau…"

Crowley slumped further in his seat, practically dozing from boredom as he watched several items be bid on, and sold.

And then he felt Aziraphale perk up.

"Next lot…medieval prophetical volumes…"

"Ah, here it is, Crowley!" Aziraphale said excitedly, grabbing the demon's arm as if to shake him awake. Crowley glanced at him in annoyance.

"Bidding starts at 500 pounds."

Aziraphale stuck his paddle up, and the bid went up, as more people stuck their paddles up, several other bidders obviously also very interested in the items. As the prices raised however, most of the bidders dropped out, except Aziraphale and another determined man.

"4,500 pounds," the auctioneer called, and Aziraphale frantically put his paddle up, but the bid raised again and another man thrust his paddle into the air.

"What cheek!" Aziraphale hissed as he raised his paddle and waved it around insistently. "He probably doesn't even know what he's bidding on. And I knew most of those authors personally…"

"Going once, going twice…Sold! To the gentleman in the second row."

Aziraphale straightened, shock on his face as he stared with horrified eyes at his rival. "I…I lost?"

Crowley sighed. "Angel, you were so busy complaining…"

"Oh, he is going down in the next bid," Aziraphale said, wringing his hands against the paddle in a way that made Crowley's eyes widen.

"Next lot… starting bid 1,000 pounds."

More books were displayed by the assistant on a table beside the auctioneer and Aziraphale instantly put his paddle up.

As did the man who had won the previous lot.

Crowley sat up straighter.

A lot of people were bidding on these books, and Aziraphale was looking more and more frantic. The auctioneer was going so fast, that it seemed less about the amount and more about who could get their paddle up first. Who knew so many people were into old books?

But there was only one person in Crowley's mind who deserved them. And besides, he would never hear the end of it if Aziraphale lost _all_ the books in the auction.

So he decided to take matters into his own hands.

The eager woman in the front row suddenly received a text that was so distressing, she had to step out hurriedly. The man just a couple rows in front of them found himself the victim of vicious food poisoning and had to run for the nearest loo. Another woman found herself suddenly narcoleptic, the paddle falling from her hand as she suddenly fell asleep, and two more men were seized with sudden coughing fits that forced them to step outside.

That just left the gentleman who had won previously but as Crowley raised his hand to snap his fingers, a smirk on his face, the auction was already over and Aziraphale's rival had somehow won again.

This time, it was Crowley's turn to stare blankly at the man, who actually turned around in his seat and smirked at Aziraphale smugly. Crowley felt rage boiling up inside of him that someone would treat his friend like that.

Oh, it was on this time.

"I say," Aziraphale muttered darkly, knuckles whitening on his paddle. "I am becoming quite annoyed with that…that…_gentleman_!" Crowley had rarely seen the angel so angry.

"Don't worry, angel, you'll win the next one," Crowley assured him, eyes becoming a little more serpentine behind his glasses.

When the next lot was brought up, Aziraphale gasped. "Oh, Crowley, I have to win this one! It has one of the most unique illuminated works, said to be a _real_ book of magic! I've been dreaming of this for centuries since I saw the man who wrote it start it back in the sixteen hundreds!"

The bastard from the second row glanced back again with yet another smirk. Crowley sneered at him as Aziraphale gave him a dark glower.

"Give me that, angel," Crowley growled, snagging the paddle from his friend. "He's going down."

Aziraphale looked at him with some surprise, but then could only stare as the bidding started. Crowley used the paddle to wield his power. Every time he raised it, another bidder got knocked out of the game in some nonconventional way. Until, once again, it was only Crowley and the other man.

"Oh, Crowley, he's going to give it to him again!" Aziraphale hissed, grabbing his friend's shoulder.

"No, he's not," Crowley growled and just when the man was about to raise his paddle again for the final bid, Crowley glanced toward him and the paddle simply flew out of the man's hand. He made a mad dash, practically falling out of his seat, but by that time, the auctioneer had already pointed to Crowley.

"Going once, going twice…sold, to the man in the sunglasses."

"Oh, oh Crowley," Aziraphale gasped, elated as Crowley settled back down with a smirk. "You actually won! Oh, thank you!"

"I'm not done yet," Crowley said.

When the bidding was done and the buyers went up to make the payments and pick up their items, Crowley walked straight over to the man who had outbid his best friend twice.

He snagged him by the shoulder and pushed him to one side of the room, slamming him against the wall.

"Let's talk," he grinned.

_Aziraphale waited_ for his turn to pay when he suddenly realized Crowley was no longer beside him. He glanced around and saw the demon had cornered the man who had outbid him. Crowley was grinning, but his teeth were slightly more pointed than usual, and then he leaned in close to the man, lowering his glasses just slightly.

The man seemed to be shaking, and he nodded quickly, and Crowley straightened up, reaching into his coat for a small leather book as he scribbled something into it and ripped off a check, handing it to the man who scrambled off instantly.

Crowley strode back up to Aziraphale who was just paying for his books, hands in his pockets, pleased with himself.

"What was that?" Aziraphale hissed.

Crowley grinned and handed over a slip of paper to the auctioneer then signed some papers and handed over another check.

"I'll bring the car around," Crowley said.

One of the attendants nodded and began to pack up all three lots of books into one crate.

Aziraphale's eyes widened. He scrambled after the demon as Crowley began to head out of the hall.

"Crowley? What…did you…?"

"You wanted the books, didn't you?" Crowley asked with a shrug. "I just got 'em for you."

Aziraphale just stared at him. "Oh, my dear boy. I don't know how to thank you…"

"They're just books," Crowley muttered, looking slightly uncomfortable as he pulled his keys out of his pocket.

The assistants came over with the crate of books and Aziraphale eyed it warmly as he followed them outside the building to wait for Crowley to pull the Bentley around.

But as warm as he felt looking at the books, it was nothing compared to how he felt looking at the demon who was his best friend.

Books and best friends were quite similar, actually, when you really thought about it. They were always there when you needed them most, for major things, or even the most trivial.

He watched the books be loaded onto a luggage rack on the back of the Bentley that had suspiciously not been there before, mulling over his thoughts of friendship and books with a smile on his face.

"Well, angel, are you coming or what?" Crowley demanded from the car. "I think you owe me a bottle of wine after this!"

"Oh, most definitely," Aziraphale said and climbed into the car. "Oh, but do be careful driving, dear, I don't want to lose all my books…"

Crowley smirked and pealed out of the carpark as Aziraphale held on for dear life, spluttering as Crowley laughed like a maniac.

Yes, well, despite his faults, Crowley was a brilliant friend and Aziraphale was glad to have him.

As long as his books didn't end up spread across the highway. The demon would be experiencing some righteous anger then.


End file.
